


Couldn't Put Spencer Back Together Again

by AppalachianApologies



Series: Appalachian's 2020 Whumptober [29]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Aaron Hotchner Whump, But No Actual Suicide, Despite this all there is a happy ending fear not my lovelies, Emotions, Hurt Aaron Hotchner, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Anguish, Mental Instability, Spencer Reid Whump, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tasers, That's right we have the entire team here, Whump, Whumptober 2020, kind of emotional, tasters part two electric boogaloo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27264466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppalachianApologies/pseuds/AppalachianApologies
Summary: Spencer's gone, and if they don't find him soon, the genius will never be found again. (Continuation from Day #22)Day 29: Reluctant Bedrest
Series: Appalachian's 2020 Whumptober [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948174
Comments: 28
Kudos: 198
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Couldn't Put Spencer Back Together Again

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: I didn't know that "bedrest" was one word until I wrote the summary. Another fun fact: I have an audition that I can either submit today or tomorrow and I'm lowkey (highkey) freaking out hehehssdfhladsfashjkalhsdjkl
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: This story touches on suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation, almost a suicide attempt, and all around has dark themes. If this is triggering to you, please exit out of it now. Your health is more important than this piece of fanfiction.

Rossi’s silent for a long few seconds, before Hotch hears him use a colorful array of curses over the phone. Hotch is ninety percent sure that he’s going to get a complaint from the hospital staff that hears Rossi, but he has other things on his mind.

A second later, Morgan jogs up to him, face contorted into anger and relief. “Hotch, what the hell, man? You’re supposed to be resting!’

Spinning around, Hotch growls, “We need to find Reid,”

“Why? What happened?”

“He’s gone.”

Morgan pauses, before slowly confirming, “Reid’s gone? He left the hospital?” After a nod from Hotch, the younger man turns to the doctor and starts again with a low voice, “How was he able to leave?”

Ordinarily, Hotch would defend the doctors and nurses, but he’s feeling about as pissed off as Morgan is. So instead, he participates in Morgan’s death glare.

“He should’ve been watched,” The doctor starts, looking rather uncomfortable. “Doctor Reid was refusing medical treatment, and there should’ve been nurses-”

“I don’t care if there should’ve been nurses!” Hotch cuts him off, uncharacteristically angry. It almost reminds him of his father, but Hotch quickly pushes that thought away. “Why weren't they there?”

Clutching his clipboard to his chest, the doctor admits, “I’m- I’m not sure.”

Closing his eyes to take a deep breath, Hotch announces, “I need to talk to the rest of the team,” Before turning on his heel. Hotch stumbles forward, but Morgan quickly catches him.

“Hotch?” He questions, “You good?”

Waving him off, the Unit Chief quickly supplies, “I’m fine,” Despite the fact that his legs feel like jelly.

“You sure, man? You aren’t looking so good,”

Frowning, the doctor calls out, “Can we get a stretcher here?” Before joining Morgan on Hotch’s other side, weary of his sling. 

With a growl, Hotch mutters, “I don’t need a stretcher, I’m fine,”

“Hotch, you’re about to fall over,”

The older man tries to reply, but he’s placed on a stretcher before he can. And to add insult to injury, Rossi suddenly appears at his side, looking like he’s about to tear him apart.

“Aaron, what the hell?”

Exhaling, Hotch tries to convince him, “I’m fine, Dave.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’re horizontal right now, hm?”

“You need to find Reid,” Hotch instructs, attempting, and failing, to bat away a nurse’s hand.

Nodding, Rossi confirms, “We’re going to. We need to make sure that you’re alright though. What happened?”

“He was about to collapse,” Morgan supplies, before Hotch can even reply.

“Blood loss?”

“We’re going to check,” The doctor juts in. “Among other things.”

Finally letting the nurse win her battle, Hotch reiterates, “We need to find Reid. The longer we wait the further-”

Cutting him off, Rossi replies, “The kid’s not the only one who knows how to make a geographical profile. We know, Aaron. We’ll find him.”

Back in his hospital room, the other members of the BAU watch as a collection of hospital staff poke and prod Hotch, while he sends nasty glares to all of them. Luckily, the staff are used to it, and aren’t deterred.

“You’ve got a slight arrhythmia,” The doctor starts, “Probably from the taser. How many times were you tased?”

“Only twice,”

Frowning, the doctor continues, “It must’ve been at a high voltage. I don’t suppose you know how many volts the taser used?”

Shaking his head, Hotch replies, “No. I feel fine though,”

“I highly doubt that,” The doctor continues. “You’re rather pale, and even though arrhythmia this shallow isn’t critical, it’s not fun. You need to stay put and rest, let your body heal. Especially with that bullet wound of yours.”

“I need to find my agent,” Hotch counters.

Crossing his arms, Rossi pipes up, “If only you had a team for that,”

Agreeing, JJ adds, “We can find Spence. You need to rest. He’s probably already beating himself up about this,” She motions to the room with a free arm, “And you don’t need him feeling more guilty.”

“She’s right,” Rossi muses. “Just rest, we’ll start working the profile.”

“Hold on,” Morgan mutters, pushing a flat palm out. “We’re treating Reid as an unsub?”

Shrugging, Emily points out, “It’s the best way to find him.”

Making a face at the sticky pads being put on his chest, Hotch mutters, “Yeah, well, he’s already one step ahead of us. Reid probably knows the ins and outs of this town from something that he read when he was twelve.”

“But Reid doesn’t know anyone here,” JJ adds. “Where would he go?”

“Where would a self-loathing genius go?”

Cursing under his breath, Morgan states, “Where would a recovered addict go when they’re self loathing?”

Sighing, Emily mutters, “Shit,” Under her breath, before looking back up, “You really think he’d do something like that?”

“After shooting Hotch he’s not exactly thinking straight!” Morgan counters. “We’ll ask around the precinct, see if we can get any locations of heroin dealers.”

Shaking his head, Rossi insists, “One day you’re going to have to tell me the whole story here. Not just parts.”

“It’s not ours to tell,” JJ replies. “Will you stay with Hotch? Make sure he doesn’t leave?”

“I’m fine.” Hotch juts in, although his pale demeanor says otherwise.

Ignoring the younger man, Rossi agrees, “I’ll stay here, keep an eye on Aaron. Keep us updated?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah,” Emiliy answers. “Alright, let’s go,” She turns to the other agents in the room. “Morgan? You’re driving. Get us there at record speed.”

*

Despite Spencer’s slightly quirky clothing style, he’s able to blend in rather well in plain clothes. He’s far too relieved that the nurses weren’t able to get him into a gown before the drug wore off. That being said, he can still feel a bit of it in his veins. A strange floaty feeling, but it’s far different from how getting high on dilaudid felt.

Dilaudid.

Spencer hates to admit it to himself, but he’s craving right now. To deal with the feeling, he wraps his arms around his waist and pinches his elbows, attempting to mirror the feeling before bliss.

That’s the thing though, Spencer doesn’t deserve the high of opiates right now, he deserves to be punished. He just shot at the Unit Chief of the BAU, and he needs to be punished for that. What if he killed Hotch?

Spencer changes to pinching with the pads of his fingers to pinching with his fingernails, and it helps a bit.

Why didn’t Spencer just pull the trigger on himself? That made more sense. 

Who stopped him? Someone stopped him. Someone told him to put the gun down, but why did he comply? It would’ve been so much easier, so much better, if Spencer just pulled the trigger. If only he were able to move a little bit faster.

He still needs to be punished.

Someone took his gun, and he doesn’t have it anymore, which means that’s out of the question.

Heroin though. See, he could kill himself with heroin. 

It’s a fairly easy overdose, save for the occasional seizure. But really it’s quite nice.

After all, Spencer would know.

He knows the feeling of his heart slowing down, slower, slower, slower, until it doesn’t beat enough to keep his body alive. He knows how it feels for his breathing to become shallow and long, until his cells no longer receive the oxygen that they desperately need.

It’s a nice overdose. It’s a nice way to die.

And the thirteen thousand people per year in the US must agree with him there. 

Taking a deep breath, Spencer changes his direction of walking. He knows what he needs to do. All he needs to do is find it.

*

The local officers are exactly zero help.

Granted, it’s not every day where a group of FBI agents come barging in, demanding to know where the closest drug dens are, but they really aren’t helping. 

Instead, the officers share strange looks and ask their own questions, which just makes the BAU team angrier. At some point one of the detectives asks to call their supervisor, but one look from Morgan silences him.

The worst part about it all is that they all know Spencer would be able to easily find it.

Morgan pauses mid stride, before cursing. “Oh, shit,”

“What?” Emily questions.

Pulling out his phone, Morgan mutters, “She’s gonna kill me for this.” After a quick speed dial, Morgan talks before Garcia can sweet talk him, “Baby girl, you can ask as many questions after, but right now I need you to tell me where the closest drug dens are.”

*

The city’s downtown is exactly how Spencer first saw it on the map, but it’s different being there in person.

Behind the tall buildings are people pushing shopping carts full of blankets and cans of food, sending the occasional nasty look Spencer’s way. He doesn’t blame them, though. Compared to the rest of the population around him, he looks like a well groomed pretty boy.

On a better day, Spencer would dig out his money and hand it out, but he needs all of it to buy enough heroin. He knows how much it costs back in Virginia, but each place has their own little economy. Besides, it always costs more to get it for injections, rather than pill form. Anyone could grab a bottle of opiates, but injecting it is too different.

As Spencer treads away from the center of downtown, the buildings get less fancy, and the amount of parking garages increase. Spencer knows he’s on the right track. His heart beats with anticipation, and he pinches his elbows to stay focused.

He can do this.

He can do this.

*

Hotch has pure fury in his eyes. “Dave, I swear-”

“Get back on your goddamn bed, Aaron.”

Doing the opposite, Hotch mutters, “I feel fine.”

Physically pushing Hotch on the bed, Rossi counters, “You have heart palpitations, so get the fuck back into bed.”

Although he doesn’t lay back down, Hotch doesn’t continue moving. “Have the team gotten any information on Spencer yet?”

“Not yet,” Rossi admits with a sigh. When Hotch takes that as an invitation to get off the bed, Rossi barks out, “Stay down,”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Hotch admits, “Dave, Reid’s smart enough to never be found, you know this,”

“And you’re going to hurt yourself worse if you chase after him.”

“You don’t understand what he’ll do to himself, Dave.”

“Listen,” Rossi starts, still holding one of his hands against Hotch’s shoulder. “I might not have known the kid for as long as you, but I understand-”

“You don’t.” Hotch interrupts. “Reid feels guilty for putting his mom in a hospital. He feels guilty for helping her. Imagine what this is doing to him,” He points out, motioning to his arm in a sling.

Frowning, Rossi tries, “It wasn’t him though. It was the unsub.”

Hotch nods. “Yes. We know that, but Reid doesn’t.”

“The team is going to get to them,” Rossi insists. “You need to rest.”

Hotch just shakes his head.

*

“What’re you, a cop?” The dealer sneers, wincing at a lip piercing that definitely looks infected, not that Spencer would mention that.

Technically he’s not lying when he replies, “No. Listen, I just need a few grams,” Spencer mutters, already feeling the familiar itch. It only takes a few micrograms of fentanyl to kill someone. Just a few little micrograms to jump start hypoxia.

And then Spencer will be free, and his team will never have to deal with him again.

Still the dealer gives Spencer a look. “You look like a cop,”

Spencer looks to the side and swallows, before pulling up his sleeve, revealing the track marks on his arm. “They’re real.” He adds for extra measure. “I’m not a cop.”

Satisfied, she mutters, “Three-twenty for a gram,”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Listen, you want a hit or not?”

“How much for the pills?” Spencer bargains.

Tilting her head from side to side, she offers, “I’d give two-seventy five,” Raising her eyebrows she questions, “You want some?”

Spencer digs out his wallet that he somehow hasn’t lost through the past twenty-six hours, and pulls out everything he has. After all, money won’t matter when he’s dead. While making the swap, he mutely thinks about whether or not he should write a suicide note. If he were to, it would probably only be to his mom. Maybe he’d write something to Henry, but he’d be far too young to understand.

It’s only when Spencer turns around when he realizes how much of a mistake he’s made. Because on the corner of the building the dealer and him are behind lies a single security camera.

Eyes wide, Spencer jerks toward the dealer, “Why would you deal here? There’s a camera!”

Stuffing bills into her pocket, she nonchalantly explains, “There’s no way it’s even on. I’ve never been caught here.”

“It doesn’t matter! It’s a camera,” Spencer adds softer. “No, no, no, no,”

“Dude, you’re not gonna get caught or anything,”

Shaking his head in anger, Spencer mutters, “Yes I will,”

“By who?”

*

“Garcia got an address!” Morgan shouts from across the conference room, causing the two women to jerk up from the map. “We need to go. Now.”

Already heading out the door, JJ questions, “Where is he?”

“I was right,” Morgan mumbles. 

“He wouldn’t…”

“Garcia found him with a dealer on a camera. It’s not like we need much more proof than that.” Morgan states, slamming the car door behind him.

A fraction of a second after buckling her seatbelt, Emily announces, “I’ll call Rossi.”

The drive to downtown is filled with tension thick enough that Morgan swears he could cut through it. None of them talk, save for Emily, too worried about what they’ll find, too worried that they’ll be too late, and Spencer will relapse.

Morgan’s heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest, and he can only imagine that the women feel the same way.

When they jump out of the car, they don’t grab for their weapons, but instead quietly turn the corner of old buildings. JJ regrets even wearing a bulletproof vest. If they’re trying to look as innocent as they can, giant white ‘FBI’ letters don’t exactly help.

“Spence,” JJ breaths, taking a few quick steps forward, Morgan and Emily in tow.

As if he was expecting them, Spencer hisses, “Please, just, don’t,”

“Spence, hey, we’re not going anywhere, okay? We just came to talk,”

Frowning at the words, Spencer replies, “I’m not an unsub,”

Holding up his hands, Morgan replies, “I know. We know. We’re just here to make sure that you don’t get hurt, okay kid?” He swallows when he sees Spencer’s shaking hands, one clutching a plastic bag with a substance that Morgan wishes he didn’t know.

“Just turn around,” Spencer requests, voice rather unstable, “And it’ll be easier for all of us,”

Shaking her head, JJ tries, “Spence, you don’t want to relapse, okay? I promise, whatever you’re feeling right now will go away, okay? But, but drugs aren’t going to help.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer swallows, “I’ll only have one more relapse in my life.”

The BAU members send worried glances to each other, all reading between the lines.

Taking a step forward, JJ continues, “You’re okay. Hotch is okay, we’re all okay. This isn’t going to help though,”

“He’s not okay,” Spencer protests.

“Yes, he is,”

“Then why isn’t he here?!” Spencer hisses, shaking becoming violent. When none of them reply fast enough, Spencer questions, “He’s in the hospital, isn’t he? He’s in the hospital because of me,”

This time, Morgan’s quick to reply. “No, kid. Hotch’s arm is fine. It isn’t even bothering him. He got hurt from a taser, not from you-”

“That was my fault!” Spencer yells. “If I just took the pills then he never would’ve tased Hotch! I did that to him,” Looking down, Spencer quietly repeats, “I did that to him.”

“You didn’t tase him,” Emily adds in. “That was the unsub, okay? Not you.”

“It’s my fault,”

“No, it’s not.”

“It’s my fault.” Spencer murmurs again. “And I- I need to pay for it,”

Gradually stepping forward, Morgan quickly replies, “No you don’t. Because you didn’t do anything, okay Reid? That wasn’t you. You were drugged.”

Spencer’s breaths turn into quick gasps, and his hands are shaking so much that he’s afraid he’s going to drop the bag. “I- I-” Spencer swallows. “I need to,”

Taking another step forward, Morgan reaches out his hand, ignoring Spencer’s flinch. “Just give me the bag, Reid,”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can,”

“You don’t understand-”

“Reid, give me the bag.” Morgan calls out again.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer insists, “It’s better this way. Please, just turn around, and forget about this,”

“Spencer, you can’t be serious-”

“Please, Morgan. You don’t understand-”

Exasperated, Morgan interrupts, “I understand that I’m not gonna let you kill yourself!”

“You don’t understand!”

Emily shares a quick glance at JJ, before taking a few fast steps forward and grabbing the plastic out of his hands. Not exactly the ideal thing to do for a possible suicide victim, but she couldn’t stand to hear any more of this.

“No!” Spencer shouts. “You don’t understand! I need to!”

“Spencer, Hotch isn’t mad at you,” Emily tries to explain, he’s worried about you.”

“He should be mad at me!”

Taking a step forward, JJ tries to explain, “He isn’t. None of us are mad at you, we were just worried-”

“Reid.”

All four of them jerk their heads to the side to see a scrub-covered Hotch leaning on Rossi.

“Hotch?” Spencer is the first one to speak, quiet and terrified. “Are you…?”

Exhaling, Hotch answers, “I’m fine, Spencer. Just a couple of taser burns.” He takes a few slow and quiet steps forward, and Spencer can’t help but feel like an animal waiting to be startled. “I’m completely fine.”

“Spencer?” JJ calls out, still unmoving from her position.

Swallowing, Spencer quietly asks, “Can I talk to Hotch? Alone?”

After a few confirming glances from the rest of the team, Hotch and Spencer are left behind an old parking garage, both with varying levels of anxiety.

Hotch is the first one to speak. “I don’t blame you for what happened, Spencer.”

“Why not?”

“You were drugged.” Hotch points out. “You weren’t in control of yourself.”

“But I shot you!”

Shaking his head, Hotch takes a step forward. “I’m not angry at you, and I don’t blame you,” Hotch reiterates, talking far too calmly. “Do you know why?”

Gulping, Spencer shakes his head.

“Because I saw you move.”

“What?” Spencer questions, face forming a frown.

“You have a perfect shot, Reid,” Hotch begins to explain. “The way you were pointing the gun at me would’ve killed me, without a doubt. But when you were told to shoot me, you moved. You didn’t kill me.”

Looking down, Spencer confesses, “I don’t remember that,”

“You were able to control it-”

“I shot you!”

“But you didn’t kill me.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Spencer softly replies, “I was supposed to.”

“You didn’t.” Hotch tells him. “You didn’t kill me, Reid. I’m right here. Worried about you.”

“Why would you be worried about me?” Spencer questions, looking back up from the ground.

“You’re like my kid, Spencer. How could I not be worried about you?”

Spencer’s eyes widen. “That’s why he went after us,”

Confused at the sudden change of pace, Hotch gives him a look. “What do you mean?”

“The unsub,” Spencer explains. “He was a family annihilator. He went after us because he was trying to break apart families. He saw us as a family.”

“Of course he did. We are a family.”

Swallowing, Spencer points out, “I almost killed you.”

“You didn’t. And we’re both okay. Alive.”

Spencer blankly stares at Hotch for a few moments, before crumpling down to the ground, crying. Sobs that have been trying to emerge for hours finally break through, and Spencer buries his hands in his arms, not caring that he’s breaking down in front of his boss.

Through sobs, Spencer cries, “I almost killed you,”

In the blink of an eye, Hotch crunches down to hug him. “You didn’t. I’m okay, and you’re going to be okay too.”

“I’m sorry,”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I’m so sorry, Hotch.”

Hotch just quietly shushes Spencer, petting his hair. “It’s okay.”

*

The doctors let Hotch leave a day later, but the extra twenty-four hours have done little to ease the tension in the team on the jet. 

Waking from visions of the jungle, Rossi rubs a hand over his face and meanders over to the coffee, pouring himself a cup without creamer or sugar. He blows over the surface as he turns around, but stops when he sees the scene in front of him.

The cup is lowered to chest height as Rossi smiles, finally feeling some ease for the first time in over two straight days.

Hotch is sleeping on the edge of the jet sofa, sling awkwardly tucked into his side. The other cushions are taken up by Spencer’s lanky form, save for his head. Because rather than a cushion, Spencer’s head is lying on Hotch’s leg, reminding Rossi of late nights with Jack.

Because that’s really what they are:

Family.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what I'd do without happy endings so I just put them in all of my stories oof. The fact that there's only two more days is absolutely w i l d like October went so fast this year?? Whatever the case, thank you all so much for sticking with me, and I hope my whumpy stories have given you some joy in this shitty year. Only two more days to go!
> 
> You can talk with me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/appalachianapologies) (AppalachianApologies) if you feel like it! I'm always so down to meet new people :D
> 
> I love you all very much, and I hope you all are doing okay. If you find yourself in a bad or scary situation, here are some hotlines (Please keep in mind that the written out numbers are US hotlines)
> 
> National Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255  
> National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673  
> National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233
> 
> If you don't live in America and need someone to talk to, here's a list of [international hotlines.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines)  
> You are not alone, and I love you all <3
> 
> Much love to all of you, and take care until tomorrow!! <3


End file.
